Always Summer
by aviciousunicycle
Summary: Six years after Ziva left, Tony is forced to take a vacation. Unbeknownst to him, Ziva and her daughter have also selected that location for their vacation. While away from it all, Tony falls naturally into the young girl's world. But what happens when vacation ends? TIVA AU post-Past, Present, Future
1. Chapter 1

A.N.: This is the first fic I've written in...years...probably since before going to college four years ago. Of course, that was under a different screen name and I'm trying to start over when it comes to writing (because I wrote some stupid shit back in high school). So, this is my attempt to get back into writing-shape. Hope you like it!

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Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of the characters that are...you know...really on the show. Also, I have never been to Cape May, New Jersey, so any likeness to real people or specific locations (e.g. hotels or restaurants) is totally unintentional. Oh, and the title comes from the Yellowcard song of the same name, which I do not own either.

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The eight years she was in D.C., to look back on them, felt infinitesimally small. Yet, somehow, the six years since she left felt like a thousand lifetimes.  
Such were the thoughts of Tony DiNozzo, as he drove east along the highway and the bright June sunlight shone through his windshield and reflected off of his mirrored sunglass lenses.  
He knew he should not be thinking about these things- about her- because the entire point of this trip was to help him get his head on straight. If he could not manage that, he could lose his job at NCIS. His screws had slowly been coming loose since he boarded that plane back in October of 2013, but they had all but popped out by this point.  
No matter how hard he had tried to hide his pain, he knew that his coworkers saw it and were concerned. They could see the bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights, the weight loss from the meals skipped, the shaking hands from the heavy reliance upon caffeine, and the lethargy plaguing his every day. McGee, Bishop, Abby, Palmer, Ducky, and even Vance had commented on Tony's well-being. They urged him to find help, find a healthy way of coping, to talk to them, to not take it out on himself. But he could not help it. Like Ziva, he was a stubborn, self-flagellating fool.  
It was Gibbs who finally got through to Tony. Last Friday, three days ago, Gibbs had walked into the men's room at five a.m. and found Tony passed out in the stall. He was pale and clammy, wrapped around the toilet. It was apparent that he had worked himself sick, then proceeded to cry and vomit himself to sleep. Upon waking the younger agent, Gibbs gave him an ultimatum- take at least a week and leave town to relax and try to work out some of his problems, or be listed as mentally unfit to serve in the line of duty and be relegated to desk work or the unemployment line.

Thus, Tony found himself on the road between D.C. and Cape May, New Jersey. He thought that the salt air might do him some good. A little more sun. The laid-back resort pace. It seemed ideal for collecting himself and letting the weight of the past six years roll off his shoulders. On Saturday, he booked a room; not many were left for the upcoming week, but he managed to find one. It was small, but he was alone. It was modest, but he had no one to impress. It was a few blocks from the beach, but he could use the walk. In short, it was perfectly imperfect.  
He needed this break, he knew he did, but it was hard to convince himself entirely of that fact. Every year since Ziva left, he had taken progressively fewer vacation and sick days. Strange, it seemed to him, that the place where he spent the most time with her was the only place where he felt that he was whole. When he returned from Israel without her, he thought that the squadroom would be the hardest place for him to be, and truth be told, when Bishop took Ziva's desk he had to choke back something that was in between a sob and a shout. Part of him- maybe most of him- was very upset that the desk across from him did not get the same mourning period for Ziva as it did for Kate. Perhaps, he thought, Gibbs was bitter about Ziva's leaving. With Kate there was the mourning and the respecting of what was once Kate's because she had not chosen to part company with her coworkers. Ziva, however, had chosen to leave the team and, as such, did not receive the same grieving period that Gibbs had given her predecessor. In fact, had Tony not came into the squadroom late at night after landing in D.C. to go through Ziva's desk and take the items he wanted, he was sure that they would have been unceremoniously tossed in a box by his boss, and mailed to Ziva, whether or not she actually wanted them.

The years since her departure had been bittersweet. He had watched McGee move on with his life, continue developing his relationship with Delilah. Their relationship seemed heartbreakingly normal to Tony, with the ups and downs, the fights and the apologies- he never knew that it was posible to long for a lover's quarrel, just because it meant that you had someone with whom to quarrel. Jimmy and Breena had a baby boy, who would soon be four years old. Julian was his name with the middle name- despite Ducky's half-hearted protests- Donald. Most people called the little boy 'J.D.;' he called Tony 'Unca Tony.' J.D. made Tony smile like few things did. He could not really explain how he went from being afraid of children to being wrapped around a three-year-old's finger, but he had. Everyone else saw it, too. Some days it seemed like J.D. was the only thing that could make Tony smile. Therefore, when Tony had days off from work- the ones he was required to take- he either spent them at the Palmer residence or babysitting J.D. in his own apartment.  
Things had changed substantially in Tony's life. Most people would say that it was for the better, but he still felt a sense of being incomplete. It was like he was using things- work, McGee and Delilah's relationship, J.D.- to fill a void in his life. Unfortunately, the void got deeper every day and no amount of extra work would fill it. That hardly stopped him from trying, though.

The sun seemed brighter today. He did not know if it was the increasing distance between himself and D.C. or the decreasing distance between himself and the sea, but with every mile he felt his heart grow lighter. He had dug a pit of despair that he had thought to be a den of refuge, but had turned into his own grave. Gibbs had tossed him a ladder and every bit closer he got to Cape May was another rung climbed.  
A welcome sign on the side of the road let him know that he had reached the top of the ladder.

He found his hotel, the Sea Oat Inn, checked in and began unpacking. The room was small and bright blue with creamy-colored accents. A lone queen-sized bed stood in the center of the bedroom area, covered with a baby blue comforter. He stood at the foot and fell face-first onto the blue blanket.  
What does a person do on a vacation by themselves he thought.  
In the past, when he went to Cape May- or any beach, for that matter- he had either brought a friend or found a girl, sometimes both. He had gone to the beach with essentially any combination of McGee, Abby, and Ziva. He had gone to the beach with several girlfriends. He had gone to the beach with old frat brothers and basketball teammates. He had gone to the beach with police coworkers. The few times he had gone by himself, he soon found a bathing beauty with whom he could share his time.  
This time was different. He had no interest in bathing beauties or blasts from the past. He could not call any of his work friends to join him because they all had to be at work.  
So, here he was. On vacation alone. Never having been on vacation alone (at least not in his adult life). Completely unsure as to what people did on solo vacations.  
"I should get a book," he mumbled into his pillow, taking a moment to savor how unlike him that seemed. A book on a beach vacation. He was turning into McGeek.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: So, I got lots of follows and favorites pretty much instantly. That was certainly an awesome welcome back to the world of fanfiction. Now if I could get a few reviews with this one... :D  
Also, I have never flown internationally, so I know nothing about it. I did some research and loosely based this on a British Airways flight, but ahh...all I know about this topic is what I've read online.  
Last note, I have been watching an anime called Aishiteruze Baby that has probably influenced my writing, especially when it comes to writing children. It is a great show and Annie will probably end up being heavily influenced by Yuzuyu.

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Disclaimer: Didn't own it last time, don't own it this time.

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A child born abroad to an American mother is an American citizen and guaranteed all the rights and privilages of a citizen born on American soil.  
When Ziva learned that, she made sure that she met every requirement to the letter. While she was born in the same city, her daughter had a much simpler path to becoming an American.

However, holding an American passport was the closest the five year old had ever been to setting foot on the nation to which she belonged. In her young life, she had lived in six countries on two continents; none of those countries was the United States.  
But all of that was about to change.  
The young girl had grown increasingly curious about her nationality over the course of the year.  
Ziva could not blame her. They had never lived in any one place for more than a year, so of course she was looking for one place to call her home. No matter where they went, they were American citizens, so perhaps she thought that America would be a point of stability for her.  
Bearing this in mind, when Annie asked to go on a vacation over the summer, Ziva knew it was a perfect opportunity to take the young girl to the States.

For a while, she kicked around the idea of taking Annie to Disney World or another touristy place that all the kids knew about the United States. Then, she realized, going to a place like that would not be a real taste of America. If Annie was to experience the America that her mother had fallen in love with, she needed to go to one of the places that Ziva loved.  
But where?  
D.C. was the obvious answer, but the thought made her nervous. Everything in D.C. was so embedded with memories of Tony and McGee and Abby and Gibbs and all the others. It would be emotional torture.  
She was definitely not going back to D.C..

After digging through the corners of her mind, searching for a place that would be somewhat sentimental without being too painful to enjoy.  
Finally, she remembered the beach at Cape May, New Jersey.  
Annie loved the beach every time they had visited and Ziva remembered very much enjoying her visits to the beach at Cape May.  
It would be perfect. She could tell Annie about her friends and the things that they enjoyed and the good times they had on the beach and around town.

"How much longer, mama?" Annie's little voice shook Ziva from her thoughts.  
"Uh," she stammered, touching the screen in front of her to show the flight map, "three more hours, metuka."  
The little girl nodded, pulling some headphones back over her ears.  
Ziva leaned over and combed her fingers through Annie's dark curls, "What are you watching?"  
"Cartoons," she replied, staring blankly at the screen.  
"I'm very proud of you. You've been a very well-behaved girl on the plane," Ziva smiled.  
Annie looked up at her and blinked.  
"Is something wrong?"  
Annie grimaced, "I'm hungry."  
"They'll serve sandwiches in an hour or two."  
Annie looked deep in thought before shaking her head, "I don't think I can last that long."  
Ziva chuckled, "Can you find the galley?"  
Annie raised an eyebrow, "What's a galley?"  
Ziva grinned, "I'll take you."  
The little girl shook her head insistantly, "I can do it myself."  
For several seconds, mother and daughter locked eyes in a battle of two stubborn wills. Ziva turned and looked down the aisle back toward the galley before sighing. "Fine. Go down the aisle back toward the bathroom, when you get there, ask the lady in the uniform if she can help you get what you want. Then you come straight back, got it?"  
Annie grinned triumphantly, "Yeah!" Then she climbed over Ziva's lap and bobbed down the aisle of the plane.

Within moments, Annie had returned with several items in her arms.  
Now it was Ziva's turn to raise her eyebrows, "What do you have?"  
Annie took her seat, pulled down her tray table, and began arranging her haul.  
"Food," she said simply, carefully standing an apple on the table.  
"I see that," Ziva laughed, "What kind of food?"  
"I got biscuits and choc'lates and a apple and and milk," Annie said, pointing at everything as she listed them.  
Ziva pointed at the package of chocolate cookies, "You know they don't call those 'biscuits' in the United States, right?"  
Annie looked confused, "They don't? But that's English!"  
Ziva laughed, "Yes, but English is very confusing, metuka."  
"What do they call them?"  
"Cookies."  
"I've heard that word!" Annie grinned broadly.  
Ziva smiled at her daughter.  
Annie picked up the cookie and studied it, "So cookies and biscuits are the same thing."  
Ziva opened her mouth to tell the girl that the Americans had a completely different item that they called a biscuit, but decided that it was best to let that lesson wait for another time.  
Annie opened her container of milk and proceeded to dip her cookie into it, singing, "Cookie, cookie, cookie. Yummy, yummy, yummy, Nom, nom, nom."

Ziva wondered if Annie had the same knotted feeling in her stomach that Ziva had in her own. Probably not, she told herself. Annie was not the one who had ran away from America. Annie did not even know that there was anything in America from which to run away.  
Though, to be fair, that was not entirely true. Annie did know that her father lived in the United States. Ziva had shown her pictures and told her about him. Annie knew that her father lived in Washington, D.C. and a few other things about him. Ziva knew that her daughter kept a picture of her father in the front pocket of her backpack so that he would always be with her.  
That was part of the reason why Ziva could not risk going back to D.C. with Annie. If, no matter how unlikely the chance, they were to happen upon him, there would be no way for Ziva to restrain Annie from launching herself at her father.  
A father who did not know Annie existed.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N.: This chapter's a little silly, I guess, but it was needed for rhythmic and timing purposes. Oh! And thanks for all the reviews! They were great!

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Disclaimer: If it is recognizable, I probably do not own it.

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Tony managed to find a bookstore in short order and spent a while browsing the shelves. He thought that a classic would be a good choice, but nothing really jumped out at him; he ran through a mental list of all the books Ziva had urged him to read, but could not think of any. So he decided to just walk through the store and see if he found anything interesting.  
He rolled his eyes down an entire aisle of bodice-ripping romance novels each featuring a different, but somehow the same, Adonis in varying states of undress.  
An aisle of self-help books prompted a foot-dragging, head down shuffle.  
Cookbooks- a rumble in his stomach. He grimaced and rubbed his belly with his hand.  
Since when was buying a book this difficult? He used to know what he wanted to read. He could go in and pick up a book by Grisham or Koontz or an author like that and pretty much know that he would enjoy it. Detective novels. Cops and criminals. That was his life and he let it permeate through every aspect of it. But now, now was different. Now he needed an escape.

While deep in thought, he had wound his way to the back of the bookstore. He looked around- the young readers' section. A little confused as to how he had zoned out through almost half of the store, he stopped and stared blankly at a shelf he happened to be standing near.  
A young boy was also looking at that shelf, though a bit more involved than Tony was.  
"That's a good book," the boy commented.  
Tony jumped slightly, not expecting the interruption of his thoughts, "Huh?"  
"That book," the boy said, motioning to the book in front of Tony.  
Tony picked it up and studied the cover for a moment before grimacing, "Isn't this book for kids?"  
The kid shrugged, "I liked it."  
Tony smirked, "You are a kid."  
"My mom liked it, too," the boy rebutted, rolling his eyes.  
Tony grunted a message of understanding.  
Just then a woman rounded the shelves and spoke, "Thomas, it's time to go, sweetie. Did you find anything?"  
The boy, Thomas, picked a book up off the shelf, near where Tony was standing and ran over to his mother.  
"Oh," she said, taking the book from her son, "already ready for this one?"  
"Yeah, Mom," he said, taking her hand, "I told that man that the first one was good."  
The mother laughed as they disappeared around the corner, out of Tony's sight.

He thumped the book in his hand. _Harry Potter._ Was he really about to buy and read _Harry Potter_? If McGee could see him now, he would never hear the end of the teasing.  
But, if he was being fair, he wanted an escape and a book about an eleven-year-old wizard would definitely be an escape.  
Fine, he told himself, this is the book I'll get. Just needed some light reading anyway.  
Nodding, he took the book under his arm and began to leave the section, when something caught his eye.  
A book with a brown cover and gold writing. Suddenly his head was filled with the sound of her husky voice.

"That which is essential is invisible to the eye."  
"Ziva David, did you just quote a movie?"  
"No. I quoted a book that was made into a movie."

He squeezed his eyes shut tight. The pain was almost physical. There were so many painful memories associated with the title that lay before him.  
Without thinking, he reached out, grabbed a copy, and started toward the front of the store.  
Ten steps later, he stopped. Was he really about to buy this book? He held it in front of himself and looked at it. The price was not bad. He did not own a copy of the book. The movie was very important in his life. He just did not know. The movie was his and his mother's, the book was Ziva's. Could he bear to read it? Could he even bear to see it on his shelf?  
He shook his head. No, he should have this book. Somehow it seemed like part of the healing process to him. With a bite of his lip, he proceeded to the front of the store and the counter.  
The girl behind the counter was in her late teens and had a big goofy smile. She tried to make conversation with a few comments about the weather or asking if he was on vacation, but Tony was not really focused enough to carry on a conversation.  
When she scanned the Harry Potter book, she asked if Tony was purchasing the book for his child. He had to resist the urge to throw his head back in exasperation. Somehow he managed a smile and simple, "No." Then she asked if he would like it gift wrapped and all Tony could manage was to shake his head as he swiped his card, paying for his purchases.

He woke up with the sun the next morning and flipped on the television to check the weather before he bothered to get ready for the beach. Seeing that a warm, sunny day was promised, he changed into his swimming trunks and packed a cooler and a bag for the beach- including the Harry Potter book.  
The beach was within walking distance, so Tony set out on foot, enjoying the coolness of the morning. When he arrived at the beach, he found it pleasantly empty- of course it was still early in the morning and on a Tuesday, no less, so it was not entirely unexpected. He spread out his towel and set up a beach chair, slathered himself with suntan oil, and began trying to make himself comfortable. He pulled out his book and started reading. Hours flew by with Tony either reading or napping. Around noon he sat up and pulled a bottle of water and sandwich out of the cooler and decided to people watch while he ate his lunch.  
By this time, the beach had become quite populated. There were several people sitting on chairs and towels like he was. Some college-age guys were throwing a football around. A cluster of kids were gathered around, making a sandcastle. Down the beach a bit, there were some teenagers burying a boy in the sand. Eventually, he zoned out, staring at the incoming waves. A woman and little girl, who had to be her daughter, were down where the ocean meets the shore. The water was barely ankle deep to the woman, but the little girl was jumping around and splashing in the foam. As his mind began to wander, the woman and girl in the water turned into Ziva and a little girl with her hair and his eyes.  
When he realized what he was doing, he shook his head. He could not think things like that if he ever hoped to get his head on straight. But, he reasoned, it was not much of a stretch to imagine the woman as Ziva. She had the same lithe body, the same tanned skin, and the same dark curls. The girl, too, had dark curls. Tony could not see her eyes, but it did not take much imagination to see them as sparkling green.  
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently. He chugged the rest of his water bottle and murmured, "The sun must be getting to me." He decided to take a break and get off the sand for a little bit, so he packed up his belongings and headed back to his hotel.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N.: So, here it is, the Ziva half of the events from the last chapter. For those of you wondering, I believe that the next chapter will be where the two stories merge. Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable and have not visited Cape May, so if anything sounds like something specific that really exists, I must have tapped into some latent psychic powers.

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Ever since they arrived at the airport in Philadelphia, Annie had been in a state of awe. She clung tightly to Ziva's hand and Ziva could tell that her daughter was teetering between excitement and fear. All through the airport, she kept smiling down and saying quiet phrases of reassurance to the little girl.  
As Ziva was packing their bags into the trunk of the rental car, Annie tugged at the cuff of her shorts.  
"What is it, metuka?"  
Annie's voice was barely more than a whisper, "May I have Oogi?"  
Ziva smiled and unzipped Annie's backpack, pulled out a plush rabbit, and handed it to her daughter who clung tightly to the rabbit.

After nearly an hour of driving in relative silence, Ziva checked in the rearview mirror to see if Annie was awake. She was indeed awake and holding Oogi.  
"Do you need to take a potty break?"  
Annie shook her head.  
Ziva bit her lip in thought, "Hungry?"  
"A little," Annie said.  
"What would you like to eat?"  
Annie looked to her mother and thought for a moment, "Hamburger?"  
"You want a hamburger?"  
Annie nodded.  
Ziva saw a sign at the next exit for a fast food restaurant and she pulled off and made her way to the restaurant.

Over a dinner of hamburger and apple slices, Annie seemed to be getting a lot more comfortable.  
"How much longer until the beach?" Annie asked as she stacked her apple slices into a little tower.  
"We are about halfway there," Ziva said, instinctively catching one of the slices as Annie bumped it with her elbow. She watched Annie for a little while longer before asking, "Are you excited to be here?"  
Annie looked a bit confused, "In a Burger King?" she said with a raised eyebrow.  
Ziva rolled her eyes at her daughter's snark, "No, silly, in the United States."  
"Oh," Annie chirped, "I am. But I'll be happier when we get to the beach."  
Ziva smiled, "I am glad that you are happy, metuka."

When they arrived at Cape May, they stopped at a grocery store before going to the condo they had rented. Annie froze when they got to the pool toy aisle.  
"Mama," she said, in awe.  
Ziva chuckled a little, coming up behing her daughter, "Yes?"  
She pointed at the packages of inflatable pool toys, "Can I have one?"  
Ziva laughed and shook her head, "Which one?"  
Annie surveyed the assortment of colorful images before her, then grabbed one package and held it up, "This one!"  
Ziva took the package and looked at it. It was a simple red, yellow, blue, and white beach ball. "This is the one you want?" she said incredulously.  
Annie nodded.  
"You are sure that you wouldn't prefer the dolphin float ring or the unicorn?"  
"I like the ball," Annie said simply, grabbing the front of the grocery cart and pulling it a few inches toward her mother.  
Ziva shrugged and tossed the package into the cart, "Alright. If that is what you want."

When they arrived at the condo, Annie hesitantly began to explore the rooms while Ziva unpacked their suitcases and the grocery bags. Annie walked through the kitchen and smiled at her mother before continuing on to the living room. She stopped for a moment and looked at the television and checked a shelf below it while mumbling something about movies. Ziva sighed and shook her head. She was her father's child.  
Whether or not Annie was satisfied with what she found in the shelves, Ziva never got a chance to ask because Annie immediately let loose a squeal of excitement. Ziva jerked her head from below the counter, where she was storing groceries, and looked toward her daughter. Annie was standing before the large sliding glass balcony door, completely frozen.  
"What is it?" Ziva asked, walking toward her daughter.  
"Look, look, look, look, look!" Annie demanded, pressing a finger against the glass.  
Ziva came up behind Annie and gazed out at the ocean, colored a dark blue as the sun had begun to set behind them.  
"The ocean, mama," Annie said, obviously still in awe.  
"Yes, it is the ocean, metuka," Ziva said, "Would you like to go hear it?"  
Annie looked up at her mother, eyes wide, "Can we?"  
"If you promise to not lean on the rail," Ziva warned.  
Annie nodded with vigor and Ziva slid the door open.  
The seabreeze hit them instantly and blew their hair back, tangling it, no doubt. The wind was heavy with the scent of salt and the humidity and spray-filled wind left their skin slightly damp and bearing the unmistakable feel of being near the ocean. Waves crashed against the beach, creating an almost steady rhythm; the sound was a calming ambience.  
Annie had not moved since Ziva opened the door. She stood, transfixed, staring out at the ocean. Ziva sat down in a deck chair and called out to her daughter, who tilted her head toward her mother. She motioned for Annie to come to her and she did. Ziva lifted the young girl into her lap.  
"It's beautiful, is it not?" Ziva asked.  
Annie nodded and said, "I love the ocean, mama."  
Ziva smiled, "So do I, metuka."  
It was not long before Ziva noticed Annie's eyelids drooping and felt her beginning to lean her head upon her mother's shoulder, the sound of the waves having lulled her to sleep.  
Ziva carried Annie inside, to a small room with coral colored walls and pale teal bedclothes and tucked her daughter into bed. She watched from the doorway as Annie rolled over and went out like a light.

The next morning, Ziva was still adjusting to the time change and let herself sleep far later than she usually would. All that ended in a flash, though, when something landed atop her, bouncing up and down while shouting, "Mama! Mama! We're late! Wake up! Wake up!"  
For a moment she forgot that she was on vacation and thought that she was late for work, then she remembered that they were on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean and she was thoroughly confused. "What is it, metuka?" she asked, eyes half open.  
"We're late for the beach!" Annie said, exasperated, pointing toward the window.  
Ziva looked at the clock beside the bed, it was a little after ten a.m.. "Annie, the beach is not going anywhere," she laughed.  
"Mamaaaaa," Annie groaned, sliding off of her mother and tugging on Ziva's arm.  
Ziva sat up on the edge of the bed and looked at her daughter, who was already clad in her a sky-blue and white striped swimsuit. "Wow, you are ready to go, aren't you?" she chuckled.  
Annie, eyes wide in exasperation, nodded, "Come on, mama."  
Ziva stood, "Alright, alright, I am getting dressed." She grabbed her own swimsuit from the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom.

It was all Ziva could do to keep Annie from bolting out the door while she packed a bag of towels, sunscreen, and anything else she could think of that they might need on the beach.  
By the time Ziva tried to put sunscreen on her daughter, Annie was practically hopping.  
"We can go now?" she asked as Ziva rubbed in the last of the lotion on Annie's leg.  
"Alright," Ziva said, standing up and putting the sunscreen back into the bag, "we can go."  
Annie bolted to the door and Ziva followed closely behind.

For the next hour or so, Ziva and Annie spent their time playing in the sand, building mountains, collecting shells, and burying Annie. All the while, the little girl kept throwing nervous glances to the surf.  
"What is it, metuka?" Ziva finally asked.  
"I think I want to play in the ocean," Annie said.  
"You think that you do?" Ziva asked, a little confused.  
Annie nodded before adding, "But I don't want to get eaten by a shark."  
Ziva almost laughed, but then noticed the serious look on her daughter's face and bit it back. "How about this," she offered, "We will go get into the ocean, but we will not go any deeper than this?" she pointed at a her leg, not far above her ankle.  
Annie stood next to her and measured the height against her own leg. She looked deep in thought, "Is that deep enough for sharks?"  
Ziva smiled and shook her head, "No, it is not deep enough for sharks."  
Annie nodded, "Alright. Let's go."

When they reached the surf, Annie was a little hesitant, but it did not take long before she was jumping and splashing in the foam.  
Her playful spirit was contagious and Ziva soon found herself joining right in.


	5. Chapter 5

A.N.: So, I've been delaying this chapter because I am super nervous about posting it, then a friend reminded me that it would be infinitely worse to just drop the story because I was nervous about one chapter. Well, I posted it. I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. Enjoy.

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Disclaimer: Really do. Not. Own this.

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Later that afternoon, Tony returned to the beach for a short walk. He had just crossed through the beach access when he saw the little curly-haired girl standing alone near the top of the beach. She looked positively terrified and was clinging tightly to a beach ball. He looked up and down the beach, but could not see the woman that was with the little girl.  
He also noticed that the beach had cleared out quite a bit. In fact, there were practically no people around where he was standing.  
For a moment, he debated on whether or not he should approach the little girl. Ultimately, he decided that he could at least ask her if she needed any help.  
He started toward her, but did not think that she even noticed. Of course, she was probably in a world of anxiety right now, so he did not fault her for that.  
Approaching her, he knelt down close to her level and asked softly, "Hey there, is something wrong?"  
The little girl nodded and Tony could see tears dripping from her chin. Unfortunately, that was all he could see, because she kept her head down with her hair in front of her face.  
"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to sound as friendly as possible.  
Without raising her head, she spoke, "Mama went to the bathroom and told me to wait outside, but a big wind came and blew my beach ball away. It's new and I didn't want to lose it, so I chased it and caught it. But then I couldn't find Mama."  
He could hear her on the verge of sobbing and he knew that he had to help. "Okay, then," he said, "Let's find your mama."  
She did not respond.  
He grimaced before offering, "My name's Tony. What's yours?"  
The little girl finally looked at him and seemed to study his face for a moment before stuttering, "An-annie."  
"Annie," Tony smiled, standing and extending a hand to Annie, "That is a very pretty name."  
"You like it?" Annie said, looking unusually happy considering her state of emotions just a moment ago.  
"I do," Tony responded before asking, "Which way did you come from?"  
Annie looked around and thought for a moment before pointing and off they went.

Tony led Annie down the beach in mostly silence. Though, every now and again he would catch her staring up at him, but when he turned to look at her, she jerked her head forward.  
However, Tony did notice that his imagination was correct- Annie's eyes were a bright shade of green.  
She would shout, "Mama!" every few steps, in hopes that her mother would respond.  
Tony could see the restrooms up ahead and prayed that Annie's mother was nearby.  
Finally, after a few more yards, Tony could make out a voice shouting, "Annie!"  
Annie leapt and shouted, "Mama!" before darting away from Tony and toward the dark haired woman.  
He kept walking toward them; he did not really know why, maybe he wanted to berate Annie's mother for leaving her, maybe he wanted to reassure her that her daughter was not with a would-be kidnapper, maybe he just wanted to see if she was as attractive close up as she was from a distance.  
He could hear them beginning to talk and paused.

"I got help finding you," Annie said to her mother.  
"You did? Did you ask a lifeguard?" her mother said in a voice that was familiar, yet just not quite enough to place. He knew who he wanted it to sound like, but the accent was not right. Just the slightest bit off.  
"No."  
"Annie!" her mother admonished, "What have I told you about strangers?"  
"He wasn't a stranger, Mama!" she protested, "It was Daddy."  
Tony felt as though every automatic function of his body had suddenly stopped. 'Daddy?' No, she must be mistaken. Maybe something happened to her father. She was very stressed, maybe the stress had replaced Tony with her father in her mind. That had to be it, Tony told himself. He could not have a child. Especially not one Annie's age, he had not had a serious relationship in years. Certainly more years than Annie had been alive. And besides, who would the mother have been? What woman that Tony had been with would be so bullheaded that she would have given up any child support just so that she did not have to tell Tony that she was pregnant.  
He could only think of one woman and the odds were just too low.  
Besides, why would she be here of all places?

He tuned back in to Annie and her mother's conversation in the middle of an argument.  
"It was him! I know it was him!" Annie argued.  
"Annie, it could not have been him. He does not live here," her mother countered.  
Annie stomped her foot, "I've seen his picture! I know it's him!"  
"Annie, please-"  
"He even had the right name!" Annie said, obviously very angry.  
"That's enough, Annie," her mother said.  
Tony thought that perhaps he should go over and apologize for worrying Annie's mother or clear up the paternity issue or something.  
"But, Mama," Annie seemed in tears again.  
"I know, I know," her mother took her into her arms, "I know you want to see him, but I do not know if that is a possibility."  
Annie sobbed into her mother's shoulder.  
Maybe this was a bad time, Tony thought, and began to retreat.  
But then, somehow, he and Annie's mother locked eyes.  
His whole body froze.  
All the moisture left his mouth and he was speechless.  
For a moment they just stood there, staring.  
Then she spoke, hardly over a whisper, "Oh my god. It can't be."

Not believing his eyes, he finally found his tongue and asked, "Ziva?"  
"Tony," she seemed on the verge of about six different emotions and he knew that one of them was her desire to flee, "What are you doing here?"  
If he still had any connection between his brain and mouth, he would have had some witty remark. That connection having been severed, he choked out, "Vacation. You?"  
"Same," she said, still not seeming to fully believe that he was standing in front of her.  
Annie turned her head so that she could see Tony and simply remarked, "Told you it was Daddy."


	6. Chapter 6

A.N.: I want to thank y'all for the wonderful reviews on the last chapter. I'm definitely a worrier, so I may overthink these things sometimes.  
Oh, and if you finish this chapter and think 'Really? That's all we get?,' prepare yourself. A tidal wave of emotion is scheduled to arrive over the course of the next two chapters.

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Disclaimer: No, for real, I don't own it...I have the student debt to prove it.

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A moment of absolute silence passed between the two and the tension was so thick that it was almost visible.  
Finally, remaining stoic, Ziva said, "Okay, Annie, it's time for dinner. We should go." She reached down, took Annie's hand, turned, and began walking away.  
However, it was clear that this was not what Annie wanted. The little girl dragged her feet in the sand and twisted to see Tony as best she could. "Mama," she called.  
Ziva stopped and closed her eyes, knowing what was coming next, "Yes, metuka?"  
"Why can't Daddy come with us?"  
Ziva did not know what to say. She crouched down to her daughter's level, "Annie...this is a very...complicated situation."  
"But it's Daddy," Annie said, eyes beginning to well up with tears.  
"Annie, your daddy and I...we have not spoken in a very long time," Ziva tried to explain, but how do you tell a child that her father did not know she existed?  
Annie took a deep breath and Ziva knew that an argument was inevitable. "My friends whose mamas and daddies don't live together still have dinner together sometimes. Why can't we?"  
"Annie, your father did not even know...did not know that we would be here," she said, biting back the harsher truth, "He may have other plans."  
Before Ziva even knew what happened, Annie had twisted away from her and ran down the beach.

Meanwhile, Tony, in a complete daze, had began slowly shuffling back toward the beach access nearest his hotel.  
Suddenly he felt something collide, with a fair amount of force, against the back of his legs. In fact, the combination of the force and the surprise nearly knocked him off his feet.  
Before he could really react to the shock, he heard a voice coming from the source, "Daddy?"  
He turned and, sure enough, there stood Annie, looking rather determined.  
"Annie?" Tony asked, crouching down to her level, "What's wrong? Aren't you supposed to be with your mother?"  
Annie merely glared at him.  
Tony bit back a smile, "I know that look. What do you want?"  
Her face lit up, green eyes positively aglow, "Can you come to eat with me and Mama?"  
"I...," Tony did not know what to say, "Annie...I...I don't think that would be a good idea."  
"Why not?" she asked, voice suddenly small.  
"Annie, your mother and I...we haven't really...spoken in a long time. I don't know that she would feel...comfortable with me being there," Tony explained.  
By this time, Annie's bottom lip was trembling and tears were flowing down her cheeks, "B-but I've never got to see you and I-I," any further argument was rendered incomprehensible by her sobs.  
Tony instinctively pulled Annie into his arms and rocked her back and forth, "No, no, Annie, don't cry, sweetie, don't cry." Unfortunately, his words of comfort did nothing to soothe the girl. He stood up, taking Annie with him, and walked over to where Ziva was standing, but did not know what to say to her.  
He looked at her and something in their eye contact must have betrayed that because she walked over and put a hand on Annie's back.  
"Annie, metuka, come here, please," Ziva said softly.  
Annie shook her head and buried her face into Tony's shoulder.  
Tony tried, "Annie, please, go to your mom."  
She would not budge.

Tony looked at Ziva, over Annie's head, and spoke calmly, "She really wants us to have dinner together."  
Ziva nodded, "I know. What do you think?"  
"I don't see any other way that you will be able to get her to go anywhere," Tony said, shrugging.  
Ziva sighed her resignation before turning and motioning for Tony to follow her.

She lead him to a sedan in the parking lot of a condominium complex, her rental car.  
Tony opened the back door and fastened Annie into her car seat. Ziva, who had walked around to do the same task, stopped in her tracks, "You know how to do that?"  
He raised up and said simply, "The Autopsy Gremlin and his wife have a son a little younger than Annie."  
Ziva nodded and Tony would have sworn that he saw a little remorse in her expression.  
He shut the car door and leaned up against it, speaking in a hushed tone so that Annie could not hear, he said, "We need to talk."  
Ziva nodded, "But not now."  
"Then when?"  
"I'm not sure," Ziva replied, "Some time when Annie's not around."  
"Tonight, after she goes to sleep?" Tony offered.  
She shook her head, "I think that I need to talk to her first."  
Tony nodded, "I should probably talk to her as well, shouldn't I?"  
Ziva had a moment of panic flash across her face.  
"What?" Tony demanded, "She's my daughter, too, apparently. I have a right to speak to her."  
Ziva turned away, "We'll deal with this later."  
"When is 'later', Ziva?" he asked.  
Her eyes were fiery, "When I decide it is."  
"Hey," he called to her over the car, "for tonight, can we just be cool? For Annie's sake?"  
Ziva threw her head back. She knew he was correct, but hated that he had to be the one to make the suggestion. Through gritted teeth, she replied, "Fine. You're right. It is better for her."

They climbed into the car and pulled out of the parking lot.  
"Annie," Ziva called to the back seat, where her daughter was drying her eyes, "what would you like to eat?"  
Tony watched in the rearview mirror as Annie looked deep in thought for a moment before asking, "What do you like to eat, Daddy?"  
Her response took him aback slightly, "Well, uh, I like to eat pizza and pasta and...uh...steak...Chinese food...fish...I like to eat lots of things."  
Annie seemed deep in thought, then chirped, "I guess I would like pizza."  
Ziva smirked.  
Tony responded with a smile, "Then you are in luck, because I happen to know the best pizza place this side of New York City."

After dinner, they drove back to the neighborhood where both Tony's hotel and Ziva and Annie's condo were located.  
When Tony began to climb out of the car, Annie let out a cry.  
"What is wrong, metuka?" Ziva asked, turning to look at her daughter.  
"Where's Daddy going?" she asked.  
"He is going to his room to sleep, just as you must go to your room to sleep," Ziva tried to explain.  
"Why can't he come with us?" Annie countered, "We could watch a movie!"  
Tony chuckled, "No, Annie, I need to stay here. All my stuff is here."  
"But you could go get your stuff," Annie argued.  
Suddenly it dawned on Tony, Annie had never seen him before and suddenly he was leaving her again. To her, it must seem as though letting him leave for one night might lead to a lifetime of nights without her father. She was afraid that he was abandoning her.  
"Annie," he spoke, leaning into the backseat and placing a hand on her leg, "I promise, tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, I will be waiting in the same spot where I found you today. Remember, when you had chased your beach ball?"  
Annie nodded.  
"That's where I'll be. And you can come down and we'll play in the sand, okay?" Tony promised.  
"Okay," Annie said, obviously still nervous about letting him out of her sight.  
"Alright, attagirl," Tony smiled, "Now you go on, be good for your mother, and get some sleep, okay?"  
Annie nodded.  
Tony backed out of the car and stood next to the door, "Goodnight, Annie," he called.  
"Night, Daddy," she responded.  
He shut the door and watched Ziva pull out of the parking lot.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: It should be pretty obvious by now.

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A.N.: Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter took so long. I spent a while with a mixture of depression, distraction, and writers' block...so...not a conducive work environment. So, here it is, chapter seven- hope it will be worth your wait.

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Tony ran a hand through his hair, letting out a puff of breath.  
What the fuck was going on? He had a kid? Ziva had been pregnant, given birth, and raised a kid for going on five years without ever bothering to call him? Not even once. Even something as little as a post-script in a postcard, "Oh, B.T.W., you've got a daughter. Her name is Annie. Have a good life!"  
He needed a drink.

Luckily, the liquor stores had yet to close and he took his time perusing the shelves looking for something, anything, to take his mind off of everything.  
"Can I help you find something?" a grizzled man in a shop apron asked, leaning against a shelf of bourbon.  
"Got anything that will kill me?" Tony asked, sardonically.  
"I might sell you a bottle of the stuff we mop with," the man chuckled.  
Tony looked up at him, torn between smirking and scowling.  
The salesman crossed his arms, "What has you hurting? Different liquors are good for healing different wounds."  
"Yeah?" Tony asked, not really caring what the man had to say, instead inspecting a bottle of Old Crow.  
"Well, Irish whiskey is for mourning a death, bourbon's for existential crises, scotch is for heartaches, Tennessee whiskey is for business problems, gin is for loneliness, vodka for money woes...need I go on?"  
Tony stiffened his spine, "How about 'the love of my life left me for five years, then I happen upon her today and learn that she has hidden our child from me'? Got anything for that?"  
The man crooked his finger, beckoning Tony to follow him. They walked down another aisle before the man took a bottle off the shelf and turned around; he handed Tony a bottle of Dewar's White Label. "Scotch for heartache."  
Without another word, he turned and began walking again, motioning once more for Tony to follow. Another bottle came off the shelf, which he presented to Tony-Disaronno. "Amaretto for broken trust."  
Tony accepted both bottles and continued following the man up to the counter.  
As the old man checked Tony's I.D. and rang up the sale, he spoke once more. "Before you go drinking away your problems, though, go over to CVS or somewhere and get a bag of chips or something that'll soak up some booze."  
"Seems to defeat the purpose," Tony muttered, swiping his debit card.  
"You're at a critical juncture in your life," the salesman said, putting the liquor bottles into a brown paper bag, "wouldn't want you to do anything stupid."  
The man pushed the bag across the counter and made eye contact with Tony. Something in his eyes said that once, this man had let alcohol muddle his senses and made him do something stupid- something he obviously still regretted.

It was that look that sent Tony down the street to a drugstore to find something starchy and salty that would occupy space in his stomach, keeping him from ingesting quite as much alcohol. Unable to focus enough to pick only one item, he pulled a bag of pretzels and a bag of cheese puffs off the shelf and started toward the front of the store.  
Almost halfway there, something caught his eye.  
It was a small white basket filled with primary-colored plastic buckets, sandcastle molds, and shovels. He froze, thinking of what was in store for tomorrow. Thinking back to earlier, he could not remember Annie having any toys other than the beach ball. If they were living out of the country, it would be hard to transport such things, so she probably did not have any other beach toys with her.  
Was it his place to buy her toys without Ziva's permission?  
He shook his head, of course it was- Annie was his daughter as much as she was Ziva's. He was certainly allowed to buy his daughter whatever toys he wanted.  
Without another thought, he picked up a basket of sandcastle supplies and proceeded to the counter.

Back in the hotel room, Tony greeted the night with a Godfather. About two cocktails later, he turned off the television and went to the sink to mix another. When he returned, he sat on the edge of the bed, facing the desk. Upon the desk was the basket of beach toys he had purchased earlier in the evening.  
The toys he had purchased for Annie.  
Annie.  
God, he thought, what would she think of me if she saw me now? He rubbed his face with his free hand. He knew that Annie all but worshipped the ground he walked on, it was obvious. All through dinner, she had talked to him- wanted to know everything about him and wanted him to know everything about her.  
Her favorite color was blue.  
Her favorite animal was a kitten.  
Her favorite food was spaghetti.  
"What's yours, Daddy?" was how every declaration of favorite this-or-that ended.  
To Annie, he had been a fairy tale for so long that it was like magic for her to actually see him and get to speak with him.  
She loved him.  
Thought he was perfect.  
But he is not perfect. Perfect men do not sit in cheap motel rooms all alone, drinking poorly-mixed cocktails over watery ice. Perfect men would man up when they learned that they had a child; put all this shit behind them and focus on being the man their child thought they were.  
If Tony were perfect, he would have stood up to Ziva and made her realize that she was wrong for keeping Annie and him apart- for not even telling him about Annie.  
No.  
If Tony were perfect, he would have never left Ziva in the first place. He would have fought tooth-and-nail and made her realize that whoever she was going to become, she would need some support- his support- to become that person. He would have been there when she found out that she was pregnant, when Annie was born, through all the milestones in Annie's life. If Tony were perfect, he would not have required a conversation over dinner to learn all of his daughter's favorite things. He would have known them as well as he knows his own face.

He continued staring at the basket of beach toys sitting on the desk and thought of Annie.  
She was still so innocent, still so untarnished by the world around her.  
The last thing he wanted was to let the world get to her, the way that it had gotten to him or to her mother. He wanted to protect her from everything, to make sure she was safe at every turn.  
He wanted to be everything that Annie thought he was, but most importantly, he just wanted to be a dad- the best dad he could be.  
With that in mind, he stood, walked back to the sink and poured the rest of his drink down the drain. Opening the bottles, he poured the rest of their contents down as well, leaving the room reeking of booze. He dropped the bottles into the small trash can beneath the counter, then poured himself a glass of water.  
He took two aspirin and sprayed some cologne around the room to kill the stomach-turning scent of alcohol. After running some water down the drain for a little while and spraying a mist of cologne in front of the air conditioner, the room began to smell much less like a dive bar.  
Looking once more at the basket, he whispered to himself, "Do it for Annie," before climbing into bed and shutting off the light.


End file.
